


Misbehavior

by hutchabelle



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Co-workers, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Passive-aggression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchabelle/pseuds/hutchabelle
Summary: Katniss Everdeen is an accomplished, successful, well-liked science teacher in her West Virginia town. She has a particular way of doing things, and she's pretty sure people who don't follow suit are lacking in some way. Peeta Mellark, the young and newly-hired English teacher, sweeps into town with his charm and new-fangled teaching strategies and pushes every one of Katniss' buttons. They're both professionals, but how are they supposed to just stand by when the other is clearly wrong?A teachers!Everlark story in which hijinks ensue, rules are broken, and Finnick goads them both into misbehavior.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 30
Kudos: 77
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ldyglfr62](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ldyglfr62/gifts).



> A long while ago, I ran across [this](https://flightyfinch.tumblr.com/post/183948995415/showerthoughtsofficial-when-youre-a-kid-one) post and have been mulling over how to write it since. With some slight modifications, I decided it was begging for an age-gap!Everlark story. I hope I do it justice.
> 
> The rating is T for now, but ensuing chapters will ramp up to M (and likely become E during edits). The story will post throughout the next few months, alternating with another Fandom Trumps Hate multi-chapter story.
> 
> Huge thanks to the winner of my auction who is incredibly supportive, patient, and an all-around lovely human. It's a joy to write for you.

Katniss Everdeen doesn’t hate many things, but she dislikes a lot of them. One glaring flaw she finds in most of her colleagues is the lackadaisical way many of them treat the process of providing feedback to students. She doesn’t understand how any teacher worth their salt assigns assessments that take more than 48 hours to return. She prides herself, a veteran educator of twelve years, on turning back quizzes, exams, and projects as quickly as possible. She’s a machine when it comes to grading, and her students appreciate her hard work.

Some of her colleagues, though, embrace other options, and Katniss thinks it’s probably a terrible choice and clear reflection of their lack of character. One in particular has grated on her nerves since August when established faculty met the new hires. He stood out from day one as someone she knew would push her buttons, and he hasn’t done a thing to change her mind in the ensuing three months. Now, he’s in the breakroom, hogging the copier, and hindering her productivity.

“Will you be long?” she asks. It’s obvious she’s impatient, and he gives her a onceover before turning his back on her.

“I’m running project assignments. It’s going to take a while.”

Peeta Mellark’s tone is dismissive, much like his back to her is. Hired over the summer as a late replacement for the English department, Mr. Mellark’s engagement at Panem D-12 is a boon for the administration. Young and talented and already published in a few curriculum magazines, he’s well-known in educational circles in the state, even this early in his career. That he’s replaced a woman who worked in the district for over 25 years means the students and several of the faculty view him as a welcome breath of fresh air in the hallowed halls of the school. To Katniss, he’s just irritating. He appears to feel the same way about her.

“I don’t suppose there’s a break in your job that would allow me to run off five copies? That would really help me out.”

He sighs, clearly annoyed, and punches the pause button on the copier. “By all means, make your copies. I don’t have anything else to do.”

She stares at him, frozen with indecision. She needs the copies, but his passive-aggressive nature is off-putting and more than a little rude. She doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being generous to her. She knows he’ll never let her live it down.

“I don’t want to interrupt—” she tries, but he cuts in with a clipped retort.

“You’ve already done that. Make your copies. I can wait. After all, your job is much more important than mine.”

“I never said—”

“You don’t have to say anything. You’ve broadcast it all loud and clear since the first second we spoke.”

She sniffs and turns to leave. “I’ll just make the copies in the office.”

“Ms. Everdeen,” he barks, and she stops in her tracks. “Make the damn copies. I could have already been mostly done by now.”

Cheeks flaming, she turns to glare at him, but he doesn’t back down a bit. He motions to the machine, and she decides she has no desire to do anything other than take as long as possible completing her job. She can’t figure out if it’s just to piss him off or to make a point. Either way, it’s worth it. He watches, arms crossed and impatient, as she punches buttons and slips her paper in the slot. The machine spits out her five pages, and she takes them from the hopper. Turning to him, she nods and says primly, “Thank you.”

He grumbles behind her, but she’s already made her escape. Sweeping past him, she heads to her classroom and prepares for her students to come back from lunch. She didn’t get to eat, but then, that’s a rarity for her anyway. She’s used to skipping meals, a holdover from her childhood and going without more often than not so her little sister Prim could eat her fill. She takes a few bites of a granola bar and sips her diet soda. That will hold her until her planning period at the end of the day. She can survive on adrenaline and hatred for Mr. Mellark alone.

Her students arrive gradually and then all in a rush. They’re flushed and happy after filling their stomachs and chattering with their friends. She always has trouble corralling this group, but they’re highly entertaining, enthusiastic, and intelligent. They might be her favorite class of the year.

“Okay! Settle down!” she calls and smiles at her students. They’re good kids, even if they are incredibly rambunctious. “We’ve got a lot to do today if you want to get to the actual frogs this week. We have prep work for dissection, you know.”

They grumble but open their notebooks, and she hands out the copies she made over lunch to the five different groups. The students work together quietly, scouring their notes and textbooks and occasionally asking her for guidance. She moves among them, pointing out mistakes and guiding them to the correct answers.

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of a perfect day in the classroom. Teaching’s a demanding, difficult, unforgiving profession, but Katniss adores it. She loves the rush when lightbulbs go off over the heads of her students and the world unfolds for them. She admires their curiosity and passion and their gratitude, even though they rarely show it until years later. She wasn’t the best student in the world when she was younger, but maybe that makes her a better teacher that way. She certainly understands what it’s like to struggle in school.

When she was growing up, Katniss didn’t ever think she’d be a teacher. Her family was poor, although self-educated. Her parents were working class—a miner and a homemaker who experimented in herbal medicine—and neither of them were able to continue formal education past high school. There had always been books in their home, though, and she and Prim devoured them at every opportunity. It had been her father’s dream for his daughters to graduate from college, and she’d done so. With a BS in Education and a few credits toward an MA, Katniss is the first in her family to graduate from a university.

She gives herself a moment to reminisce about her college years—long hours and multiple jobs and very little time for anything that didn’t help her succeed. Being a first generation college student, she’d struggled to negotiate the system, but she’d managed. Maybe that’s why she’s so serious about her job. It’s her responsibility to prepare students like her, students who aren’t the strongest but need a little encouragement and support to succeed later in life.

It’s also possible that the adversity she’s overcome is the reason she’s highly sensitive about her private life. She knows she’s a topic of gossip in the school. There’s no reason to think she isn’t when she hears whispering that ends when she enters a room or when her students ask her if she did anything fun over the weekend and then are disappointed when she steers the conversation back to the subject she’s teaching. They aren’t being overly nosy, but she’s determined to keep her relationships with students at the most professional level possible. It’s part of how she does her job, and she’s good at it.

The rest of the hour passes quickly. Her students are mostly well-behaved and interested thanks to them being an upper-level course, and she waves at them and calls several farewells as they bustle into the hall on the way to their next classes. Breathing a sigh of relief, she sinks into her desk chair and closes her eyes. Her forehead hits the surface, and she allows herself to relax with her head down for a few minutes before tackling the pile of exams she needs to finish for her class the next morning.

“Sleeping on the job, huh?”

She startles and bolts upright. Her heart hammers in her chest, and she sucks in a breath hard enough that she chokes. Coughing and clearing tears from her eyes, she turns to glare at her visitor. Mr. Mellark stands in the jamb with that cocky attitude that makes her want to hit him.

“I was meditating.”

“Is that what we’re calling it nowadays?”

“Do you have a reason for being in my space on my break? Don’t you have a classroom full of students to whom you need to attend?”

She busies herself with a stack of papers as he slinks across the room toward her. She has no interest in interacting, but he doesn’t seem to get that. Besides, he’s supposed to be _working_. Why is he in her classroom?

“You left these by the copier. I thought you might need them.”

He holds a couple of sticky notes out to her, and she makes a grab for them. Flustered, she tucks them under a notebook. They’re covered with highly personal information, notes from a medical debriefing with her doctor. The thought of him being privy to something so intimate is horrifying.

“Thanks,” she snaps. “Sorry to inconvenience you.”

He shrugs and opens his mouth to say something, but she can’t handle the thought that he might offer something kind or, worse, something hurtful. She glares at him, and he shakes his head and turns.

“The photocopies were more irritating than a stroll through the science department at the end of the school day. And, lest you think I’m slacking, my class is covered. I do have some standards of professionalism. I know that’s shocking for you.”

She gapes after him. He hasn’t been quite so outspoken at any point since they first met in August. It’s a little bit intriguing that he’s willing to spar with her when so few others are. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s intelligent and witty, as well as attractive and fit. If she had any interest in exploring life as a cougar, she might consider getting to know him a little better. That’s not really her thing, though. She doesn’t have time for friends and isn’t any good at figuring out how to make many of them anyway.

No, that’s definitely not something she’s interested in exploring. Neither is the stack of exams sitting before her, but she doesn’t really have any other choice. If she wants to have a decent amount of free time over the weekend, she needs to bust through the stack and get the scores into her gradebook before she leaves for the day. She only has a few more to go when the bell signaling the end of the school day rings. Frowning, she concentrates harder as the halls fill. Then, it hits her that she has bus duty, which means she’ll have to either take the tests home or finish them on Monday. She really doesn’t want to stay late today.

Katniss locks her room and heads to the front entrance to oversee the buses. It isn’t a difficult job, more boring than anything else. There are more bus routes than drivers, so her job is to make sure the students who have to wait for the second shift stay in the lower floor of the school and aren’t roaming the halls. It’s only thirty minutes for a week twice a school year, but it’s Friday. She’s over it already, and she’s only 90 seconds in.

The minutes pass as quickly as they can when she desperately wants to leave. She chats with some of her students and the janitor as he sweeps the entry and halls around it. She bids Mr. Lattier, the computer teacher, goodbye and wishes him a relaxing weekend. As the school empties of other faculty, she counts down the few remaining moments before the last bus returns for its last load of the week.

She’s almost free when she feels electricity in the air. The few students who are left perk up as two of her colleagues walk down the hall. Mr. Mellark and Mr. Odair, a fellow science teacher, stride along together, both smiling and laughing. All the females and a good portion of the males watch as the two men pass. Mr. Mellark’s got a strap crossed over his left shoulder so his bag bangs against his right hip. His sleeves are rolled up and tie loosened, and he’s gripping his phone in his veined hand. Mr. Odair’s bronze ringlets fall over his forehead, mirroring the blonde hair of his companion.

Neither of them spare a glance at her as they chat about their plans for the weekend. She’s pretty sure they’re meeting up for drinks later that evening, and she realizes she’s a little jealous. None of her friends, all three of them, have asked her to hang out, and she’s facing another long weekend home alone.

“Bye, Ms. Everdeen!”

Katniss snaps to attention and waves to the girl who called out to her. The final bus is here, and she can go home. Squaring her shoulders, she returns to her room, packs up her purse, and heads to her car. Only ten days left till Thanksgiving break, and then she won’t have to see Mr. Mellark’s smug, handsome face for five whole days. She can’t wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta Mellark glances around the bar and turns back to his friend and colleague when the waitress places their next round in front of them. He swirls the amber liquid in the bottom of his glass and takes a sip. After the alcohol burns down his throat, he sets his glass down and surveys Finnick Odair.

“Had a run in with Ms. Everdeen today. She’s a real spitfire.”

Finnick raises his eyebrows and grins that cocky smile of his. “Ms. Everdeen? You mean Katniss?”

“You call her Katniss?”

“I call everyone by their name, Peet. I’m just wondering why you don’t.”

Peeta chuckles and takes another sip before answering. “I’m terrified to say anything to her. Afraid she’ll bite off my head. I haven’t had a single civil conversation with her since I was hired.”

“She can be a little prickly. That’s true. But she’s whip smart and an excellent teacher. The kids love her, and she’s been with the district for a long time. You could learn a lot from her.”

“Dude, I teach English, not science. What am I supposed to learn?”

Finnick puts his hand over his heart and sighs dramatically. “I’m wounded. Wounded, I say! I don’t know how to break it to you, but I’m a science teacher, too. Have I taught you nothing?”  
  


“Oh, fuck off. That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Peeta slouches down into the booth. He’s out of sorts today, and he’s not sure why. He’s never been particularly bothered by someone not liking him before now. Growing up with an apathetic mother had taught him that lesson. If the woman who birthed him couldn’t care less about him, then what was the point in minding if strangers and acquaintances gave him the cold shoulder?

“You seem like you’re a little riled up. Katniss gotten under your skin?”

“What? No! I’m fine.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I think you probably have. She can definitely get the heart beating a little faster. I know she has for me.”  
  


“Then why don’t you go out with her?”

“You know my heart belongs to the one and only Annie Cresta. Besides, she’s more your type than mine.”

“I have a type?”

“Sassy with dark hair.” Finnick leans back and holds his glass. He raises it to take a sip while pointing at Peeta. “You definitely have a type.”

“I don’t have a type,” Peeta insists. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t date a coworker.”

“Who said anything about dating?”

“Finn…”

“Oh, come on.”

“No.”

“You’re both consenting adults.”

Peeta throws up his hands and barks, “I don’t even know this woman! I’m not going to seduce her, fuck her, and then go back to working down the hall from her. That’s just not okay.”

“Then seduce her, fuck her, and then have a relationship with her.”

“Okay, can we move on, please? I’m not going to date Katniss Everdeen.”

“But you’ll think about it.”

“I’m leaving. Thanks for the drink.”

Finnick laughs and grabs his arm as he rises. “Fine, I’ll stop, but I do think the sexual tension between you two is off the charts. Besides, she’s a great person. Just get to know her. You can be friends, you know. Not every woman is a conquest.”

“Says the biggest womanizer I know.”

“You are correct, sir. Now, tell me about your Thanksgiving plans. I know you aren’t going home.”

With Ms. Everdeen off the table for topics, Peeta’s relieved the evening with Finnick improves dramatically. Peeta’s younger than his friend, but they’ve known each other for so long, it doesn’t really seem to matter. He’d been the one to tell Peeta about the job offering where he works, and the change of venue has come at just the right time. Peeta loves his new job, is excited about the opportunities he has, and plans to stay for a long while.

When he gets home, he tosses his keys on the side table and flops onto the couch. He has a million papers to grade, lessons to plan, and three reference letters to write, but the last thing he wants to do is think about work. It’s been the longest week ever, and there are still ten days until he’s off for break. Surely, he can afford to take the evening and do nothing. He’ll grade tomorrow.

Except he doesn’t because it’s a Saturday in November and football. He doesn’t the next day either because, well, it’s a Sunday in November. Did he mention football? He’ll have time during his planning period on Monday, and if that doesn’t work, then he can get to them on Tuesday or Wednesday. Hell, as long as he has them back to his kids before Thanksgiving break, it’ll be fine. He’s given feedback to each student as they wrote them anyway.

By Monday morning, he’s dragging a little, but the sight of the eager faces of his students energizes him. He chooses to ignore the inappropriate flirting of the female students and jokes with a few of the male ones about the football game coming up at the end of the week. He settles into the rhythm of his job fairly quickly, and, before he knows it, the day’s done.

Tuesday passes quickly, too, as does the rest of the week and the weekend. It’s not until the next Tuesday that he even realizes he hasn’t graded one solitary essay, and he’s down to a single day before Thanksgiving break. He goes home that night determined to work on them. He’s halfway through the first paragraph of the top essay when there’s a knock on his door. Growling in frustration, he pushes back from the table and stomps to the door. Swinging it open, he stops in surprise.

“Haymitch. What’s going on?”

His neighbor stands there, disheveled and wearing a sardonic grin. Haymitch Abernathy first approached him the day after he moved in when they ran into each other in the hall. The fifty-something recluse hardly ever leaves his apartment, but when he does, Peeta’s pretty sure it’s only to retrieve delivery from the building’s lobby downstairs. He also frequently smells like booze. Still, the guy is friendly enough for an old curmudgeon, and he seems to like Peeta, at least if grunting at him when they pass each other in the hallway is any indication.

“Hey, boy. You have a package downstairs.”

“Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“I figured, or you would have brought it up already.”

Peeta observes him for a few seconds, and what he sees there makes him a little nervous. He seems twitchier than usual, and deep, dark circles make his gray eyes appear smokier than normal.

“Everything okay, Haymitch?”

He grunts, and Peeta realizes he might have been a little presumptuous. “Don’t I look okay?”

“Sorry. Of course, you do. I just wanted to make sure. It’s been a long while since I’ve seen you, and I’m feeling a little guilty.”

“If that’s the case , you could invite me to Thanksgiving. Home cooking might make me all right.”

“I’m…”

“You’re?”

Peeta shifts from one foot to another. It’s silly to feel this way, but he doesn’t want to admit he has no plans for the holiday. He’s not sure why it makes him feel so pathetic to admit that, but it does.

“I don’t have anything going on for Thanksgiving.”

“Well, then. You’ll want to join me and my goddaughter. Thursday. We’ll leave at eleven sharp.” Haymitch gives him a onceover. “Can you cook? Bake?”

“I can...uh…I can bake.”

“Great. Bring a pie. I hate pumpkin.”

And with that, Haymitch sweeps down the hall leaving Peeta gaping at his back. He wants to protest, to thank him for the offer but insist that he not impose, but there isn’t a chance. His neighbor is walking remarkably quickly for someone who usually moves like he’s 100 years old. Before Peeta can gather his wits, the door at the end of the hall opens and closes. He’s left alone in the hallway. With a curse, he grabs his keys and heads to the lobby. Might as well get the package now and then tackle the pile of essays that taunt him from his coffee table.

Except the package upends his entire night. He’s not in the mental headspace to remain sober, let alone grade a stack of student essays. He downs a couple of shots, but that’s all he allows since he has to work in the morning. So pissed off he can’t see straight, he goes to bed early after taking a sleeping aid.

When his alarm goes off in the morning, he almost throws his phone across the room. His car coughs several times before the engine turns over, and Peeta’s positive he’ll lose it if it doesn’t start for him. He’s running a few minutes late when he does finally make it to school, and he ducks into the faculty lounge to drop off his lunch when he realizes he left it sitting at home in the fridge. Letting go of a seriously loud expletive, he about jumps out of his skin when he hears someone behind him.

“Eloquent, as always, aren’t we, Mr. Mellark?”

Peeta audibly growls, and Ms. Everdeen takes a step backward. If he wasn’t so furious with his life, he’s sure he’d feel badly about the glint of fear in her eyes.

“While I appreciate your constant critique of my behavior, I’ve had a shit morning, so please spare me your sanctimonious bullshit.” Without waiting for an answer, he brushes past her and heads for his classroom. He’ll just have to get something from the cafeteria or the vending machine if he wants anything to eat today.

He has only a few minutes to get himself together. Too soon, he hears a chorus of “Hi, Mr. Mellark!” as his students enter the room. As always, their youthful energy lifts his spirits, and he decides in the moment that the last day before break deserves to be a celebration, not a slog. With a grin, he tosses his lesson plans out the window—figuratively, not literally—and decides they’re going to watch youtube clips of Schoolhouse Rock grammar lessons. When they’ve quit laughing, he has them design their own videos, which he records on his phone. They kids love it, and they leave his classroom yelling, “what’s your function?” at each other. It’s hilarious. This is why he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it.

He’s saved from buying a school lunch when the head cheerleader drops by his room to deliver goods from a fundraiser he’d purchased back in September. By sheer luck, one package is homemade breakfast tacos, and he warms some up in the breakroom before taking the rest to the kitchen and asking if he can store the box in the walk-in freezer. He offers his most charming smile to the cooks, and they wave him toward the stainless steel door with delighted grins.

He makes it through his last class of the day and collapses at his desk when the final bell rings. His head still feels like it’s going to explode from the headache that’s been nagging him all day, but that’s okay. He’s got five glorious days to himself, except for what promises to be an incredibly awkward Thanksgiving dinner with Haymitch and whoever it is that’s hosting the meal.

He’s ready to go home, but he decides to spend a few extra minutes tidying up his desk and making sure he has everything he needs before heading out for the break. Stacking books and filing papers, he clears the surface and drops a few pens into the cup next to his computer screen. With a relieved sigh, he tucks his things into his bag and tugs it over his shoulder. He’s halfway to the car before he remembers the food he left in the cafeteria freezer.

Peeta waves to Finnick across the parking lot before heading back into the school. There are only a few people left in the building. The halls are mostly emptied and only a handful of straggling students wait for the late buses. A couple of maintenance workers are finishing up their shifts by taking out bags of trash to the dumpster.

The cafeteria is dark when he enters the kitchen itself and grabs the massive handle that opens the freezer door. He pulls it wide and steps inside to grab his box on the shelves to his right.

“Oh, thank God!”

Peeta jumps a foot and glances to his left to see Ms. Everdeen huddled in the corner. Her teeth chatter, and she’s rubbing her arms in an attempt to stay warm.

“Jesus! Do you just lurk in dark places for the opportunity to scare me?”

He expects a snarky comeback. What he doesn’t anticipate is for her to burst into tears.


	3. Chapter 3

Katniss blinks as light enters the freezer. She’s so cold and so terrified and so mad at herself for being stupid enough to lock herself in a walk-in freezer the day before a multi-day break begins. Her cell phone has no signal, and she’s genuinely terrified she might freeze to death. This is no place for someone like her. She’d just been teaching her students about the properties of heat and fire earlier in the day. It’s ironic, but so is most of her life.

“Oh, thank god,” she sputters in relief. She doesn’t hear the reply of whoever it is that saves her. She’s too thankful the door is open. Her adrenaline spikes, and she bursts into tears.

Arms are around her, calming her, and she clings to the heat. Murmured words in her ear and broad shoulders and a helping hand into warmth all allow her to regain her composure until she blinks and realizes who it is.

_Oh no_ , she thinks. _Not him. Anyone but him_.

Peeta Mellark looks at her, his brow furrowed in concern, and she does the only thing she knows how to do when she’s this vulnerable and embarrassed. She lashes out at him.

“Do you make a habit of groping your co-workers, Mr. Mellark?”

He reels back, and she crosses her arms over her chest in both an attempt to get warm and to hide from him. She’s freezing, and her nipples are standing at full attention. He doesn’t need to see that.

“Only when they’re dumb enough to get locked in the freezer,” he snaps.

“Well, I’m fine. Thank you very much.” Her words soften with gratitude. She really is grateful to him, but she feels like an idiot, and he’s not the one she wants to see her this way.

He nods curtly and motions to the freezer. “Can I fetch whatever it is you were getting? I wouldn’t want to see a repeat ‘accident.’”

She shakes her head, furious at his intimation that she faked it, and marches back in front of him, grabs her box, and holds the door open for him as he picks up his items, too. They stalk outside together, neither speaking, until they reach the parking lot. She heads to her vehicle and draws to a halt when she reaches it.

“Have a good break,” she tosses over her shoulder and slips into the car. He’s gone before she’s put on her seatbelt, which is a small blessing since she loses it the second he’s gone. Sitting in an empty parking lot and staring at a holiday weekend with no family or friends or anything to do seems to be her plight for the foreseeable future. Her sister should be here, but she can’t get the time off from work. She’s three states away and doing her own thing. Katniss is alone, and she could have frozen to death if her nemesis hadn’t forgotten something and opened the freezer.

Katniss jumps a foot at the rap on the car window. Swiping her face dry, she schools her expression and cracks the window to find Johanna Mason, the industrial arts teacher, staring at her.

“What are you doing?”

Taken aback, Katniss attempts to answer, but she’s too flabbergasted that the other woman asked her that instead of whether or not she’s okay. It takes her a bit, but she finally manages to sputter, “I don’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving.”

Johanna shrugs and offers, “Come to my house,” as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Katniss is too stunned to argue. Instead, she simply mumbles, “okay.”

“I’m on the corner of Seventh and Pine. White house. We’ll eat at noon. Bring a side if you want. If not, there’ll be plenty. I’m a kickass cook.”

Katniss mumbles out a dazed, “thank you,” but her coworker’s already gone. When the significance of the invitation washes over her, there’s a little tingle in her gut that spreads out through her body. The holiday weekend doesn’t loom over her anymore. The thought of having a place to go gives her a glow of pleasure.

She’s still excited when she wakes the next morning. She’s not much of a cook, but she’s always been able to make a corn casserole that others seem to enjoy. Luckily, the pantry and refrigerator hold all the ingredients she needs, so she mixes it up and places it in the oven while she gets dressed and fixes her hair and makeup. Nothing too dressy for the occasion, but she wants to look nice. A pair of leggings and a deep orange sweater that compliments her complexion do nicely. Johanna greets her at the door and leads her into the kitchen where a veritable feast is spread out on the countertops.

“This is…a lot of food.”

Jo nods and shrugs. “There should be plenty. I always make enough to send home leftovers with whoever shows up.”

“Yeah, but—”

She’s interrupted by the doorbell, and it’s just then that she realizes she’s not the only guest. She slaps a pleasant expression on her face and pivots to greet whoever’s arrived. Her stomach drops when she spots the familiar width of broad shoulders and ashy blonde waves that fall over a gently sloped forehead shading bright blue eyes.

“Ms. Everdeen,” he says in greeting, and she returns a stiff nod. The older man next to him points between the two of them.

“Brr. You two have a lot of warming up to do.”

“Stop it, old man. Katniss, this is my godfather, Haymitch Abernathy,” Johanna explains by way of introduction. “He’s a pickled old curmudgeon, but we can’t all be perfect. And you know Peeta.”

“Mr. Mellark,” Katniss returns and holds out her hand to Johanna’s godfather. “Mr. Abernathy.”

“Call me Haymitch. Peeta, here, is my neighbor. I didn’t realize you two knew each other. Didn’t exactly put it together that he knows Jo, either. I blame the alcohol.”

Johanna shoots back, “I blame you being constantly drunk. Peeta and I go way back.”

Peeta pipes up at that. “I got lost in the industrial arts wing once when I first started. Couldn’t find my way out. Jo rescued me.”

“He jumped a foot when I came out of the shadows. He and I are very familiar with each other’s screams,” she says with a flirtatious wink.

Katniss glances among the others laughing and joking and has the sudden realization that she’s on the outside looking in. She doesn’t belong here, but it would be rude to run. Instead, she smiles tightly as she’s seated by Peeta, who largely ignores her as they pass food around the table. Their fingers brush more than once, and it sends little bursts of pleasure through her. She really is touch starved. To her relief, her casserole seems to pass muster, and she’s relaxing a little when Johanna addresses the two of them and asks what other plans they have over the holiday weekend.

“Nothing exciting for me,” Peeta says wryly. “I’m behind in grading. I have a set of essays I should have handed back two weeks ago. The curse of an English teacher.”  
  


Katniss glances sideways at him, trying hard not to judge, but this is exactly the kind of thing she’s always found problematic in her colleagues. “You have papers from two weeks ago you haven’t marked yet?”

She doesn’t mean for it to come out critically, but that obviously fails by the way he reacts.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Everdeen,” he replies, sarcasm practically dripping from his lips. “I’ll be sure to run all my teaching strategies and habits by you in the future. I wasn’t aware you’re my boss.”

Her brain is screaming at her to abort, but she can’t. He’s thrown down the gauntlet, and she’s conditioned to respond to direct challenges.

“I’m not,” she sniffs, “but it would be something I’d note when doing your performance review and evaluation. Timely feedback is critical for student engagement and assessment. It’s not fair to them if we don’t let them know how they’re doing.”

Johanna snorts and waves her utensils in the air. “About 97 percent of them couldn’t care less about feedback, no matter how popular blondie is with the kids. Resident lady killer, right here.”

Peeta flushes and tries to deflect, but he’s obviously uncomfortable.

“I think Odair still has the corner on that. I’m not interested in a _Hot For Teacher_ situation, although I do love Van Halen.”

“Finn does attract the ladies, doesn’t he?” Johanna laughs.

“Mr. Odair’s an excellent teacher,” Katniss insists. “I’m sure there’s nothing inappropriate going on at all.”

“Jesus!” Peeta snaps. “I wasn’t suggesting anything otherwise. I wouldn’t do that to Finn. I was just saying he’s a good-looking man, not hinting at any impropriety.”

Katniss swallows as an uncomfortable silence descends upon the room. Haymitch clears his throat and suggests they have dessert, and it feels like they all go back to their corners. Shame and frustration color her cheeks, and she keeps her head down the rest of the meal. As soon as she’s able, she slips down the hallway to the toilet and cloisters herself inside the small room with the intention of calming herself. Instead, she can hear the others talking, and she’s not surprised she’s the topic of conversation.

“She’s a piece of work,” Haymitch grumbles, and she winces when Peeta agrees. She’s only slightly mollified when she hears Johanna interrupt.

“You two should be ashamed of yourselves. She’s lonely. Have a little compassion.”

Katniss has to smile at the sound of Johanna Mason, the toughest woman she knows, telling someone else to show sympathy, but she appreciates the sentiment anyway. It twists her insides to admit Johanna is right. She is lonely, and that’s not something she ever thought she’d experience at her age. Everyone always assumed she’d get married to her childhood sweetheart, but things hadn’t worked out the way other people expected. Maybe it was all her fault, but she didn’t think she should have to take the blame for her ex-boyfriend walking away from everything they’d planned together.

She’s still relatively young, only 34, but she doesn’t have a lot of faith in men anymore. Not after everything. She’s not a bad person, and she doesn’t have to spend the rest of the day hiding in a bathroom. Determined, she shakes herself, washes her hands, and returns to the others. She slumps back down in her seat and smiles tentatively at Johanna.

“My sister’s working today. She’s a doctor in Atlanta. My parents are both, uh, gone. I thought I was going to spend the holiday alone, so this is…a nice treat.” She swallows and glances at Peeta. “I know you didn’t mean anything about Mr— about Finnick. Sorry.”

It’s not a good apology, but it’s all she can handle. The last thing she has the strength to do is open herself up more than she already has. Even the thought of him mocking her pain is enough to make her physically ill.

Johanna raises her glass and points it at Katniss in a makeshift salute. “There’s no one left I love. Except this crusty old man. Happy Thanksgiving!”

Haymitch chuckles and downs half a glass of wine. “All alone, except for my sassy goddaughter, my knucklehead neighbor, and the girl with fire in her veins. Happy holidays.”

They all turn to Peeta, and he holds up his hands in surrender. “I haven’t talked to my mom in years, and my brothers and father aren’t exactly on speed dial. And—”

“And?”

Peeta glances at Jo and shakes his head. “And nothing. I’m just as miserable and pathetic as all the rest of you.”

If he hadn’t been grinning when he said it, Katniss might be offended. As it is, she works hard to keep her mouth from twitching before raising her glass and motioning to the group.

“To surviving holidays.”

The rest of the visit passes pleasantly enough, but there’s still tension between her and the young English teacher. In particular, she can’t get over his admission that he hasn’t returned papers to his students. An idea sparks, and she mulls it over as she watches him playing chess and teasing Haymitch. Maybe it’s a terrible plan, but she has a sudden burst of inspiration. Besides, it’s not her fault if Peeta Mellark can’t take a joke, even if it’s a pointed, rather snarky one.

Suddenly, she can’t wait for Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hot For Teacher](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6M4_Ommfvv0) by Van Halen


End file.
